


A merry little Christmas

by LightofEvolution



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Christmas, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-01
Updated: 2020-01-01
Packaged: 2021-02-27 10:46:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,028
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22065733
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LightofEvolution/pseuds/LightofEvolution
Summary: When Hermione Granger starts her shift on Christmas Eve, she expects the night to be a bit sad and lonely. Draco Malfy, bringing his crying baby son to St Mungo's, changes that completely. For the better.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy
Comments: 32
Kudos: 475





	A merry little Christmas

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, I know this is too late for Christmas, but since it includes a lot of my own feelings and experiences, it took a lot of emotional toll on me to write it. Though, it’s been pretty therapeutic. 
> 
> Epic thanks to niffizzle, who beta'ed this when she should have been resting, and to mcal, who is such a loyal cheerleader. Both ladies encouraged me to write this, even though it was pretty difficult at times. Their support means more to me than I can put into words.
> 
> Trigger warnings: Infertility and all the emotional shit that comes with it.  
> No surprise pregnancies, I promise. But still a hopeful ending for our heroine.

Despite what everyone expected, Hermione Granger always wanted a huge family. Not necessarily five children of her own, but maybe three? It was the twenty-first century, and even in the wizarding world, women could have a career and be mothers. But growing up as an only child with her parents being only children and her grandparents long dead, she always yearned for a loud and busy big family. 

When she had married Ron, this fantasy of hers had felt like it was becoming true. And on Christmas, it was the most palpable. With the Burrow full of screaming babies, running toddlers and the occasional child reading a book quietly (which meant Albus, Harry and Ginny‘s second child), and the adults in festive cheer, it was perfection to her. 

Now, however, she felt robbed of this happiness. 

Not that she had a problem per se with working on the holidays, but this Christmas, it was especially hard for her. The divorce was only a few months ago, and the wounds were still fresh. For both Ron and her. 

Maybe they could have made it work despite the curveball fate hat thrown them. Maybe they should’ve tried harder to keep their marriage together, seen more specialised healers, tried Muggle technology. 

Then again, they both didn’t want to stay in a relationship based on the one condition to have children. Who was she to beguile Ron of that chance? He was a wonderful man, and their infertility as a couple hadn’t been his fault. It was Hermione‘s body that refused to conceive and carry life. 

She sighed deeply, blinking a few tears away. The heaviness of her thoughts wasn’t helped by running over the same thoughts again and again. She had work to do, after all. Even though, the evening of the twenty-fourth of December was unusually quiet at St Mungo‘s, so Hermione had allowed her mind to wander for a bit. 

Forcing her concentration back to the list of patients in her hand, she crossed the first one off her list. A middle-aged man with an unfortunate case of Dragon Pox she just had released despite still being ill. One of the first things Hermione had worked on as a graduated physician with a magical Healer degree was a vaccine against the illness that was quite harmful to the wizarding population. Vaccination was new for witches and wizards, and thus, the percentage of those who were suspicious of the way it worked was even higher than the anti-vaccinators Hermione knew to be a shamefully prevalent group among the Muggles. Nevertheless, she was supposed to keep a professional appearance during the patient's treatment, simply informing him that there had been an option to prevent his state.

Before she could open the next file, Fraser came rushing down the corridor. The healer-in-training she had taken under her wing was in quite a state. 

“Healer Granger!” He was out of breath and stopped right before her, resting his hands on his knees. 

“What happened?” she queried, immediately running through potential disasters that could happen in wizardring households on Christmas Eve. 

“There’s a father with his baby. Maybe around six months old. The baby is whining but otherwise seems okay. Responsive to visual and auditory stimulus.” 

“ _ Seems? _ What have I told you about the word ‘seems’?” Hermione chastised. 

“That it basically means ‘I was too lazy to check the facts’,” Fraser automatically recalled. “But in this case, I can’t help it. The father won’t let anyone check the babe unless it’s the best healer we have,” the young man explained in his Scottish brogue. “Pretty agressive man.” 

Hermione nodded, knowing without arrogance that she was at least the best in the building at the moment. Calmly, she followed Fraser down the corridors of the hospital. 

Even before she turned around the corner to the reception area, Hermione could hear a man shouting over a baby’s insistent cry. 

“How long does it take you to find the best healer in the Merlin-damned building? My son needs help!” The voice was somewhat familiar to her, but when the father came in sight, she was surprised nonetheless. 

In the middle of the reception area, in between other patients, healers, and nurses all trying to calm him, stood Draco Malfoy. One hand had his wand raised at no one special, but the other was holding a soft looking green blanket covering his son who was screaming his lungs out. 

This wasn’t the first time Hermione had seen a parent in such a state, nor would it be the last. Though, usually, they didn’t monopolize a good part of the hospital personnel.

“Hermione, this is Mister—” 

“I know who that is, thank you,” she softly interrupted Fraser. Slowly, she approached the wizard with the baby. 

“Mister Malfoy!” 

Formally addressing the person in distress usually worked. Not in this case. The man’s eyes darted from the people around him to the whining baby in his arms. 

“Draco!” she tried again. 

Icy grey eyes, wide in panic, focused on her. “Granger! What are you doing here?” 

“I am here to treat your son. Would you follow me to the examination room?” Hermione expected some resistance, maybe debate on whether she was really the best healer around? But instead, the distraught father followed her like a puppy. 

Hermione closed the door behind them and motioned for Draco to take a seat. Smiling, she turned to the baby. “Whom do we have here?” 

“Scorpius. He’s seven months old.” 

“Hi, Scorpius.” She removed her wand from the pocket in her robes, carefully running it over the boy. The screams paused as he focused in fascination at the sparks of magic dancing around him. That wasn’t really necessary for diagnostic spells, but Hermione always added them for entertainment and distraction when working with children. 

“He’s got a bit of a temperature, but that’s likely only because he’s been screaming his lungs off for some time,” she explained checking the boy’s ears.

“I tried everything. Feeding, change of nappies, even singing to him!” Draco’s desperation was coming off of him in thick waves. “It’s been going on for hours!” 

“There’s no house elf taking care of him?” 

Draco heavily shook his head. “No, not when I am at home. I know, house elves have done an excellent job of tending to the Malfoy heirs for centuries, but I like taking care of Scorp myself. Especially since Astoria thought it prudent to leave.” His adamant answer almost threw her off. 

She hadn’t known that Draco and his wife had split, but then again, she didn’t acknowledge the societal gossip a lot. Intrigued by this changed man, she continued. “There are no signs of infection, bacterial or viral,” she stated, thinking. As if on cue, the baby started crying again. “Would you give him to me for a moment? There’s something I’d like to try.” 

Obviously hesitating, Draco transferred his son to Hermione’s waiting arms. 

“Thank you.” Once in her professional grasp, she turned the baby over her arm. With the other one, she massaged the little tummy. “You see, sometimes, babies just have a bit of gas that causes them problems.” 

As soon as the words left her mouth, something else left the heir of the House of Malfoy. Loudly. 

“ _ Pfffffffffft! _ ” 

Instantly, the baby boy stopped crying, freed from the thing that had plagued him. 

The shocked expression on Malfoy’s face was so impressive that Hermione chuckled. 

“See? Even little pureblood princes are worried by digestive gases at times.” 

Draco’s shoulders slumped in relief. “That was why he was crying?” 

“Yep. He’s absolutely healthy.” Hermione repositioned Scorpius in her arms so he was resting with her hands and arms splayed over his neck, upper back and head. Molly had chastised her for carrying little Lilly like that, but professionally speaking, it was the healthiest way to have him face to face. 

“Hey, Scorpius!” She smiled at him, and he smiled back. There was barely a blonde hair on his head, but the bright eyes, a tad more blue-ish than his father’s, clearly identified his heritage. Though, she couldn’t remember any of the male Malfoys smile at her with this kind of unadulterated joy. 

“A wonderful boy you have, Draco,” she said, still concentrating on the baby. Scorpius made happy, senseless noises in response to Hermione’s continued smile and cheerful tone. “Are you sure he’s yours?” she joked. 

When no response came, Hermione thought she had gone too far with it. “Sorry, I didn’t intend to insult you,” she started apologising and looked up. 

That was when she discovered the true reason of Draco Malfoy not reacting to her jab. He had fallen asleep. Head leaning against his hand, his eyes were closed and he was lightly snoring. He must have been utterly exhausted and crashed the second he knew his son was healthy and happy.

Hermione smiled at him. He had grown up too fast; they all had to, really. But now, he was an adult, a father. 

_ Draco Malfoy could be a father _ , a traitorous, evil voice whispered to her,  _ yet she couldn’t help her husband to that role? _ She was a total failure as a woman, wasn’t she?

Hermione decisively pushed those thoughts aside, knowing they wouldn’t bring her or anyone else anything good. Alas, they kept threatening to pull her under every day, and sometimes, she lost the fight against them. 

Looking at Scorpius, she saw that his eyes were drooping, too. A glance at the clock told her it was nearing midnight. Carefully adjusting her hold on the baby, she took out her wand to conjure one of the cribs the hospital always had prepared. Hermione gently placed the now sleeping Scorpius in the crib next to his also sleeping father. Casting a Monitoring Charm over the baby and covering Draco with an accio’ed blanket, she readied the two of them for a much needed, restful sleep. 

Looking back at the serene scene of father and baby sleeping peacefully, Hermione switched the lights off and locked the silenced room.

* * *

It was the night before Christmas, and it was a peaceful one. Hermione did some paperwork, even got some sleep of her own, something she didn’t get too often on night shifts. 

When she was shaken from sleep at around six in the morning after three hours of dreamless sleep, however, it was the Monitoring Charm on Scorpius’ crib that beeped next to her and not one of the alerts coming from dangerous situations for her patients. 

She entered the examination room to find Scorpius indeed wide awake and giggling -- and his father still fast asleep. Smiling to herself, she took the baby into her arms and carried him towards the empty nursery. Scorpius pressed his head into her neck, apparently having found a liking to Hermione. 

She wasn’t a pediatrician, but one didn’t need to be to know that the baby needed fresh nappies and something to eat. She quickly found the right formula and a bottle, but getting Scorpius into new nappies proved to be quite the challenge. That hadn’t exactly been part of her medical training, and she had always found an excuse when Ginny or one of her other sisters in-law had urged her to “practise for her own children”. 

Did they even know how much that had hurt? Probably not, and she couldn’t even find a reasonable explanation for it, either. 

But she was pretty proud of herself once she had successfully changed a giggling Scorpius after what felt like hours of trial and error. Feeding and burping the baby was much easier, for the little guy was hungry and latched to the bottle without complication.

Fed and changed, Scorpius looked at her with his big bright eyes. “Are you ready to do some work with me, little Malfoy? My morning round is waiting for me.” Tapping her wand on the top of his head, she whispered an incantation to protect him from any potential germs and diseases. 

With the reduced number of patients over the holidays, the morning round should have been quicker than usual, but not with Scorpius as a little helper. He was curious, open, and of a generally sunny mood, charming everyone around him. The entire time, he kept a firm grip on Hermione’s robes, occasionally alternated by his little hands carefully patting her curls. 

By the time Hermione had finished her work for the morning, her shift had long come to an end—and she was head over heels for the Malfoy baby. After another changing and feeding, he was becoming sleepy again, so she conjured a sling to carry him. Hermione didn’t want to part with him yet, so she did some paperwork with baby Scorpius in tow until she decided it was time to check on his father. 

Who, miraculous as it was, was still slumbering. 

Gently, Hermione touched his shoulder to rouse him. “Hi, sleepyhead!” 

He made a mumbling noise. “Hello,” he greeted her, barely aware of his surroundings. Then, once his intellect and memory had rebooted, he blinked, in near panic. “Scorp!” 

“Relax, Draco, he’s here,” Hermione calmed him, showing him the baby in the sling in front of her body, sleeping peacefully. “We had a very busy morning, and now he needs to rest for a bit.”

“You had a productive morning? What time is it?” He ran his hands over his face. 

“It’s almost noon on Christmas Day.” 

Draco nearly jumped off the chair, surprising Hermione and causing her to cup Scorpius’ head next to her chest reflexively. “Merlin, Granger, your shift must have ended ages ago!” 

“Yes, in fact, it did.” She chuckled at the distressed expression on his face. 

“I am sorry I have kept you from going home.” Draco reached for the sling to transfer Scorpius to him. “Your family must be missing you. Weasley—” 

“No!” she interrupted him, taking a step back. “There’s no one waiting for me.” She held her gaze firmly on the still sleeping baby, blinking away hot tears. How she hated these uncontrolled bouts of emotion. “No one.” 

Draco must have realised that he had put his foot into his mouth. “Fuck, sorry. I feel like an arse now. To be honest, I haven’t kept up with anything happening in the world since Scorpius was born and Astoria left us.” 

She nodded, accepting his apology. 

For a moment, everything was quiet, giving Hermione the chance to gain her control back.

Suddenly, Draco spoke up again, “Oh, but I know  _ something  _ about you!” He grinned so proudly, Hermione inclined her head, challenging him.

“Bossiness and hair don’t count, Malfoy!” she teased. 

“No, I mean something important and recent,” he replied. “You worked on a vaccination against Dragon Pox, didn’t you?” 

She nodded, impressed that he articulated the word ‘vaccination’ without thinking, particularly since the concept was foreign to most not brought up among Muggles. 

“That’s quite impressive. I lost my paternal grandparents to that illness. They were so different from what you know about the Malfoys. Purebloods, of course, and not really liberal towards the magical population without magical heritage.” Hermione snorted, not having expected anything else from an ancient legacy like Draco’s. “But my grandfather Abraxas was... more balanced, in a way. Maybe he could’ve, would have stopped my father before it was too late.” 

“Before he joined the Death Eaters? Or before he allowed his only child to be marked by an evil leader?” 

“Both.” He looked at his son reverently. “I can’t imagine exposing him to any danger willingly. And still, my father did nothing when I was branded with a Dark Mark. He placed me in the middle of a bloody war and made me believe it was the right thing to fight for. I even believed him for some time.” 

“Yet, here you are. With me,” Hermione answered serenely. Before she could add to the meaningful conversation, she heard a loud noise coming from the blond wizard that could only mean one thing. 

“Hungry?” 

He chuckled, his hand splaying over his stomach. “Obviously. I can’t take Scorpius through the Floo or Apparate him while he’s asleep; he always wakes up then. Can you show me the way to the cafeteria instead?” 

“If you prefer squishy sandwiches and watered tea over some solid food and a perfect Darjeeling.” Seeing the question in his eyes, Hermione continued. “Since I am off duty and craving some solid food as well, I thought I could invite you along to my office?” 

Not hesitating for a second, Draco nodded, a smile forming on his face. “You don’t happen to have a bathroom there, too? I could use a Shaving Charm, among other things, I think.” 

She scrutinised the dark blond shadows on his face, and a slight pink hue covered his cheeks under her stare. “I don’t know. I rather like the ‘devil may care’ look,” she teased, only half-joking. For it  _ did _ add to his overall attractiveness, though she wouldn’t tell him that. ”Come on, before either the growling stomach or the smell of his daddy wakes Scorpius!” 

Laughing, she led Draco and Scorpius Malfoy through the bowels of the famous hospital. 

* * *

“This is quite a large office,” Draco remarked upon entering the room, bright and warm and including two comfortable sofas. Reluctantly, Hermione had handed Scorpius over to his father when she had to dismantle the wards on the room for them to enter.

“I earned it,” she countered. 

“I wouldn’t expect anything else from you.” He paused before asking, “Weasley couldn’t deal with your career?” 

Hermione shook her head decidedly, turning towards the door to re-erect the wards. “No, he always supported me.” She felt the need to add, “We… basically, we always wanted the same thing from our marriage. And when we couldn’t have that, we realised that we had damaged our relationship beyond repair.”

“I am sorry,” he said, and Hermione believed him. “At least, I knew Astoria and I weren’t meant to be from the very beginning.” 

“Why did you agree to marry her then?” 

“We thought we could make it work. In the first several years, we got along sufficiently well. But when our families pressured us into having a child, she seemed to realise that her life wasn’t only about spending money. That there were things expected from her as a Malfoy wife. Not that I was particularly fond of fulfilling that role, but”—he shrugged—“when Scorpius was born, it was the best day of my life.” He smiled fondly at his baby son, and Hermione felt a stab into her heart.

She swallowed it down, for at the same time, she was in awe at the warmth and adoration in this man’s face whom she’d only known to be sneering and hissing for too many years. It was stunning. Softly, she added, “I have no doubt about that. You’re not the same man as the one you were before.” 

His smile turned towards her, and for reasons she didn’t want to fathom now, Hermione felt her cheeks reddening. 

“I’ve tried my best after the war, seeking redemption by donating a lot of money, restructuring the business my father had no choice but to sign over to me.” Hermione nodded. That much she knew. Hogwarts, St Mungo’s, the research Departments of the Ministry — Draco Malfoy had invested his family’s money in education and knowledge. A good decision if one asked Hermione. “But Scorpius— he gave everything I am doing a reason.” 

Automatically, she nodded. “I wouldn’t know,” Hermione whispered.

Draco looked at her, snapping out of his reverie. “But  _ toys _ . Toys are everywhere,” he spluttered, in an effort to alleviate the mood. “Everything makes noises or rattles, and that one time I stepped on a plush Hippogriff at night had me screaming like a girl.” 

Hermione started giggling at the imagination. “Thank you, I appreciate it,” she commented, not going into further detail. This wasn’t the time nor the place. 

“Tea?” she offered. 

“Oh, Merlin, yes, please. The stuff from the hospital cafeteria must be worse than Severus’ Cough Potion.” 

“You clearly haven’t tried my Cough Potion. It’s much better — tastes like strawberry.” 

“Did you know a branch of the family business includes Potion making? I could totally hire you for that alone,” Draco offered, rearranging now half-awake Scorpius in his arms. 

“And did you know that I am not doing this for money? I could totally slap you,” she returned, jokingly.

Scorpius started giggling at that, and Hermione stretched her arms out to hold him. 

“You’re clearly her favourite Malfoy, Scorp,” Draco spoke to the baby, transferring him into Hermione’s arms. “Though, admittedly, you are the cutest.” 

“I won’t say anything against that. But the smirk seems something you have thankfully not yet learned from your Daddy. It’s going to open for you many bedroom doors far, far into the future.” 

Draco chuckled, and the dry, humorous sound stirred something in Hermione. Somewhere in the back of her rational mind, the question popped up how exactly this lonely Christmas had been turned into a very nice, anything but ordinary work day spent with Draco Malfoy and his cute baby. 

“Not too many. And let’s hope the day I feel the need to teach my son about sex and contraception are indeed many years away.” 

Hearing the man in front of her articulate the word ‘sex’ made some long forgotten neurons fire in Hermione’s brain. 

Over the course of the rest of the afternoon, this occurred several more times. She blushed, she giggled, and heat coiled up between her legs. The two of them even opened the bottle of red wine one of her patients had given her for Christmas (she was off duty, after all) and shared a sinful Mousse au Chocolat from Draco’s kitchen, delivered by house elf because Scorp needed a fresh set of clothing anyway. 

All in all, Draco Malfoy made her feel like she was on a first date with someone she had held a crush on for years. 

Only that she was fully aware that he had brought his baby, they were at her work, and they had a past that definitely deserved the label ‘complicated.’ Nevertheless, she felt tons better than she had only twenty-four hours earlier. But nature took its course, and when Scorpius started yawning, she knew her time with his father had come to an end. Strangely, she didn’t want that.

“I want to hire you, Healer Granger. Officially.” 

Hermione snorted. “Excuse me?” 

“You could become the Malfoy family’s private Healer, primarily focusing on Scorpius’ wellbeing.” 

“I am a very well-paid, highly trained expert, Draco. I’m a physician, not a nanny!” she said, offended. 

“Hermione, I am trying very hard to get you into spending time with me!” 

“Try harder then,” she replied drily but suppressing laughter. 

“I need help eating all the delicious food the paid house elves prepared for Christmas?” 

“Warmer.” 

“You made this holiday so much better for both Scorp and me, and I’d like to express my gratitude for that. Additionally, I want to get to know you better because you’ve impressed me again, Hermione Granger.” That last comment had her blushing. 

It was raw and honest, and just what she needed. A fresh start. But as herself, scars inside and outside out in the open. 

“Breakfast tomorrow? Unless you have to work, that is.” 

“I don’t have to work again until January the second,” she said, hoping she didn’t sound too eager. But Merlin, she wanted to jump fully into whatever adventure they had apparently begun. 

He smirked, legitimately smirked, and she knew that this wasn’t just an invitation for a platonic friend. “Breakfast it is.” 

“Definitely and obviously.” She gave a sleepily smiling Scorpius a kiss on the head before Draco stepped through the Floo in her office. 

Hermione sat down on the sofa soon after, the still half-filled glass of red wine in her hand, and she felt  _ good _ . For the first time in years, she felt like the path in front of her wasn’t dark and lonely, but full of opportunities. Opportunities she had to grab. And, finally, Hermione felt ready to seize them. 


End file.
